Friday, November 30, 2012

The Old Bull

My Mexican sister (sister to my Mexican cousin, and daughter to my Mexican uncle) has a restaurant on the beach called the Viejo toro (the old bull) after my walk on the beach I stop in there for lunch, mostly I am there for the chatting which is good for my Spanish. I order Fish Zarandeado which is amazing. I watch her put a whole fish that looks like it is butter flied (cut in half) on a grill on an open fire, once it's almost done she puts some butter on it, a wee bit of mayonnaise, some bravo sauce, in a sauce pan on the stove she has fried up some onions, tomatoes, peppers with some salt and pepper, she puts that mixture on the fish as well and lets it all roast just a wee bit good, served with rice, beans and was great and all for 80 pesos.

 They weren't very busy so I had a seat in the kitchen which allowed me to see the whole process. This is not a fancy place, not 2 plates are the same, the cutlery is mismatched, all tables and  chairs are mismatched, some tables are built with boards of different thickness so be careful that you don't spill your drink,  floor is sand, there is no hot water (as is standard in most restaurants here) and there is only fish and shrimp on the menu. After I am done eating her mother stops by (my aunt) and I help her wash some dishes, then we sit and chat about how the comasario (the band) is hunting down all the "stoners" on the Island this weekend, they laugh and compare it to the witch hunts from long ago, we discuss everything from recipes, to the price of fish, comfortable underwear (that was interesting) nail polish, all while we are watching her son clean fish, we critic and have a comment about every move he makes (more like heckling)....that is just how it is when you work in front of 3 women. We laugh at her daughter as she is trying to get a peek at the rat in some dudes backpack (don't ask) without letting it out. She squeals and runs away every time the pack moves but keeps coming back with a stick to poke it.

She tells me that she has a reservation on Friday for a huge group of people and a wedding on Sunday, she asks it I want to help...of course I do, I hope I can help her more than I am helping my brick layer, she assigns me to dish washing  I think I can handle that. Mi Tia assures me she has an apron for me. I am told for my pay I can eat as much as I want all day....she doesn't know me, I can pack it away, she might be better off paying me. She has no idea how excited I am. I ask her what words I should brush up on to make communicating little easier, her waiter has a great idea, he says he has something that will make me bilingual by then, and rushes off,  he comes back and proudly presents me with a Spanish/English dictionary....dude, I have 6 of those, one in every size, book size, pocket  size, purse size, big fat desk size that make me really look like a scholar, a kindle version as well. I have all the tools. He looks puzzled at why I am not bilingual by now....I'm puzzled too.

I walk home with mi Tia and we stop at her mother's (grandma) house to drop of a bag of scrap food that we scraped off the plates at the restaurant to give to her chickens. Grandma is 89 year old and still lives all by herself in a fair sized house, in the back yard she has a very interesting chicken farm. I'm intrigued. She has about 20 chickens and 3 big beautiful roosters, most beautiful roosters I have ever seen, and me without my camera. We sit on the front step and chat about, chickens, flowers and plants and about shoes, something about how all shoes these days make her look like a clown...I can see it, 89 year old lady wearing shoes with shiny bows and buckles, bright colors and whatnot, I see her point. Everything here is so blinged up, from underwear to shoes. 

Before we leave I ask her if I can come back with my camera someday, of course I am always welcome. As we walk home we see the people that sell peanuts coming in with a huge truck full of peanuts, we are excited, tomorrow there will be fresh roasted peanuts...the first batch of this season. Before we even get home 2 people stop and tell us that the first truck load of peanuts are in, this is exciting to all. 

I'll leave you with these unrelated photos

Got a pedicure here on the Island, decided to go a little Patriotic with my nails. 

She painted an Island scene on my big toe, she also did a great job of cleaning up my feet, glad I don't have to go to mainland for this anymore. I'll will use her again for sure.


Brenda Maas said...

HI, sorry this is a stupid question; but what did you mean by this in your blog post:

"comasario (the band)"

what kind of a band??

Here the "comisario" is like a police station which is a part of a bigger city or area, a sub station sort of.

Mary Klassen said...

There are no stupid questions. This Island is what is called Ejito land, It is comparable to the Indian reserves that we have at home. The comasario would be the "chief", he is elected by the Ejido people, these are the families of the original people that were here when the Ejido was formed many years ago. The Island is part of the municipality of Mazatlan and must adhere to all municiple/Federal laws but they also have some separate Ejido rules/laws as well. I don't have full understanding how it all works yet.

Brenda Maas said...

Ok, now I get it. Thanks.
I didn't know that it was Ejito land.
Yes, they have some of their own rules and have to abide by the other rules as well.

Thanks for the answer.